


Dreaming Of You

by OfTheMoors



Category: Maleficent (Disney Movies)
Genre: Angst, F/M, Masturbation, Oral Sex, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Sex Dreams, Shameless Smut, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-08
Updated: 2019-12-08
Packaged: 2021-02-26 00:08:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,209
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21714310
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OfTheMoors/pseuds/OfTheMoors
Summary: One-shot from Maleficent's POV about wanting more versus not wanting to change things.  Set during the first movie.There's no real plot here.  It's just shameless smut.
Relationships: Diaval/Maleficent (Disney)
Comments: 11
Kudos: 211





	Dreaming Of You

She found more than once that the words were almost on her lips before she was able to bite them back.

“You said ‘anything I need’. I need you to pleasure me. I need you to take me into the heavens, above the clouds, as though I still have my wings.”

He would do it without question, she knew, if she were to ask it of him. He had never denied her anything that she wanted. It was one request that he would no doubt fulfil with relish, though. She was not unaware of the longing looks he cast in her direction, the desire in his eyes, and though she feared where those looks may lead, it also made her feel powerful. Desirable. Sensual.

She knew that he dreamed of her. In the cold of winter, when she insisted that he sleep in his human form with her in the nest to ward off the chill in the air, she had woken more than once in the night to his whimpers of pleasure and his firm length pressed into her thigh as he dreamed. The first time, she had frozen in fear before realizing that he was still asleep. His soft gasps as he rutted against her made her feel feelings that she had buried for many years; yearning and need and a desire to be touched, taken, worshiped with hands and mouth and body, and it frightened her to feel that way.

She hadn’t known that it was she that he dreamed of until the night a breathy ‘Mistress’ spilled from his parted lips, and her breath caught in her throat. She turned to look at him then, his eyes closed, long lashes like feathers upon his cheeks, his lips parted as he panted in pleasure. She wanted him desperately in that moment, to capture those lips with her own and take him into her body, her core throbbing with need, but she forced the desire down as far as she could. Instead, she watched the expressions play across his beautiful face, wondering what he was seeing in his dreams, until his features contorted in ecstasy and she felt hot moisture seep against her thigh. He slept on, one arm flung around her waist, but it took her many more hours to fall asleep. Now she longed for his dreams, relishing what the mere thought of her did to him, silently stroking herself in time with his thrusts until she too reached her release. 

It would be so easy to wake him and instruct him to pleasure her, touch her and taste her and sink into her until she screamed.

But she couldn’t do that. Not to him, and not to herself. She knew that his lust for her was born of love, and though she considered herself an evil being beyond redemption, she could not bring herself to toy with his heart like that. He was a loyal servant and companion, but he would not remain so if she played with him and broke his heart. He would want more than she was willing to give, and it would destroy him if she denied it to him. 

She wished that he wanted her less, that she could use his body for her own purposes without it becoming complicated with feelings of love and longing, thoughts of mating and a life lived together, but there was no way that he wouldn’t want that if she asked him to couple with her.

And so she did nothing, giving in to the urges of her body when nobody else knew, bitterly wishing that it could be his fingers on her and within her instead of her own.

\---

The night was half over, and she couldn’t sleep again. He snored softly beside her, far away in the land of dreams. She was only dimly aware of her surroundings, though, her fingers stroking firm circles at the seat of her pleasure, her breath coming in soft gasps as she spiraled closer and closer to the edge. 

So unaware was she that it wasn’t until she felt his hand slip under her nightgown to her center, delicately stroking her moist folds and slipping into her that he realized he had woken.

“Let me, Mistress.” he breathed in her ear, and his fingers replaced her own. He moved them in slow circles, shifting down to crouch between her parted thighs. She heard him breathe her in, his tiny moan of longing, and then she felt his mouth on her core. 

It came to her to rebuke him for his boldness. She should say something. Stop him before he went any further.

But his tongue was doing wonderful things to the most sensitive parts of her body, and she was rising above the clouds, and if he stopped now then she might just die from it, so instead of admonishing him she gasped and panted and moaned and begged as he licked and suckled on her, driving her ever closer to the edge. His fingers slid into her opening and he stroked her in time with his mouth, reaching in to caress the deepest parts of her, flicking that wonderful spot within her over and over. 

Her moans grew in volume and her body began to shake. His other hand traced slow circles on her hip, adding to the overload of sensation which overwhelmed her. Her hand gripped his hair and he increased the pressure on her in response. Her back arched, she shuddered violently, and sobbing his name in ecstasy, she found her release at his touch.

“Mistress?” came his voice through the fog. “Are you all right?”

She opened her eyes to see his face above hers, his expression inscrutable. She blinked, looking around, and realized that she had been sleeping, and that her own mind had created all that she had just experienced.

“You were dreaming, Mistress. I wasn’t sure if you were having a nightmare or not.”

Her upper thighs were slick with her juices and she felt deliciously swollen with arousal. She wanted to take him. She wanted to roll him over and stroke him until he was hard and begging for her, and slide down onto him and ride him until he exploded within her. She wanted to bite him. She wanted to mark him as hers. She wanted his strong hands and beautiful mouth all over her. She wanted him, desperately, and she knew that he could read her need in her eyes. His pupils were large and his breathing uneven. Had she called his name in her sleep? Did he know that she had been dreaming of him? Was that evidence of his own arousal that she could feel against her? Was she imagining it that his face was slowly, very slowly, becoming closer to her own, and that his eyes kept flickering to her lips?

She wanted him.

She wanted him desperately.

She needed him.

But against the longing of every secret part of her body, she forced herself to roll away from him, away from temptation.

“I’m fine, Diaval. Go back to sleep.”

She felt him lie back down, his breathing ragged. He sighed.

So did she.

Sleep would not come easily again this night.


End file.
